


Five Times Jensen and Cougar Looked Totally Gay (And One Time They Actually Were)

by lily_zen



Category: The Losers (2010), The Losers (Comic), The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-16
Updated: 2012-03-16
Packaged: 2017-11-02 01:24:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lily_zen/pseuds/lily_zen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yep, it's a five and one. The title is pretty self-explanatory. Humor. Mild slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Jensen and Cougar Looked Totally Gay (And One Time They Actually Were)

Five Times Jensen and Cougar Looked Totally Gay (And One Time They Actually Were)

 

Fandom: Losers

Pairing: Jensen/Cougar

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: humor, mild slash

Archive: Ask

Author: Lily Zen

 

Notes: I have never written a five-and-one type of story, but this funny little story just smacked me upside the head and wouldn’t leave me alone. I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

\---

**1.** **The Disagreement**

Cougar was reading the newspaper, or at least pretending to read the newspaper. Periodically he’d let the right corner flop down and glare at Jensen across the breakfast table. When he wasn’t glaring at Jensen, his angry eyes were threatening to burn holes right through the New York Times.

Pooch felt bad for the obit page that he was pretty sure Cougar wasn’t really even paying attention to. “Did you guys have a fight?”

Jensen’s spoon clattered into his cereal bowl, splashing milk on the kitchen table. He looked up at Pooch, then glanced quickly at Cougar, who’d lowered his newspaper to stare at Jensen again. “No!” Jensen replied defensively at the same moment that Cougar growled, “Si.”

Pooch’s eyes flicked between the two of them, and then landed on the fridge. Neutral territory. He poked his head in the door, and pulled out the half and half. It was way too early for this shit. Calmly, he poured a small amount into his coffee cup, and returned the creamer to its proper spot.

Mug in hand and about to disappear out the kitchen door, he grumbled, “You two fight like you’re dating…or worse, married. Hug it out, guys. Just hug it out…or hit each other. Whatever you do, don’t go to bed angry.”

The newspaper, rolled up into a projectile, hit the wall where Pooch’s head would have been a second ago.

Jensen almost snorted milk out of his nose.

**2.** **The Belt Incident (A.K.A. We Shall Never Speak Of This Again)**

Cougar had a couple of busted ribs.

Jensen, as his bestie, was elected (read: defaulted by a round of Not-Its) into taking care of the stubborn sniper. So far it wasn’t going well.

Cougar hated being sick or incapable in any way, and more often than not he tried to sneak away from Jensen’s interfering presence and his coddling behavior, or do things that he knew he wasn’t supposed to.

Jensen walked into Cougar’s room with a plate in his hand. It was lunch, and he was going to force-feed Cougar that goddamn tuna sandwich if he had to. The pain medication took away Cougar’s appetite, and up until then Jensen thought he’d been really understanding about it. However, his friend hadn’t eaten any lunch or dinner the day before, and barely two spoonfuls of oatmeal that morning. If he didn’t eat he wasn’t going to get any better.

When Jensen saw what was going on, he swore under his breath, and set the plate down on Cougar’s dresser with a loud thud. “Goddammit, Cougar, how many times do I have to tell you? If you need some help, ask!”

Cougar froze as he was, looking up rather guiltily from his uncomfortable, half-bent posture. A look of pain pinched his eyes near the corners. He was straining with his arms to reach the boots tied onto his feet.

They’d just gotten back from a check-up at the doctor’s office to see how Cougar’s healing was progressing (not well since he kept insisting on doing things for himself and not _resting_ ). “I was only gone for ten minutes, Cougs! You couldn’t wait until I got back?” With a heavy sigh he dropped to his knees before Cougar and jerked up the bottoms of his jeans, exposing the laces on the boot.

Cougar grumbled under his breath like a pouty child, “I can do it myself.”

“Bullshit!” Jensen barked as he finished untying one bow, and reached for the other shoe.

In an effort to prove Jensen wrong, Cougar twisted. Jensen ducked the wrong way, and the next thing they knew…

“Ow!” Jensen shouted. He tugged his head back, trying to pull away from his position way too close to Cougar’s crotch for comfort.

Cougar grunted in pain and hissed, “Stop it!”

“What the…?” Jensen reached up, feeling around his head. His hair, his gelled blond hair was stuck. Fingers examining the point of entanglement, he cursed. “Cougs, your belt buckle…” he whined, “It’s stuck in my hair.”

“I think your hair is stuck in my belt buckle,” Cougar huffed back.

“Semantics.” They froze, awkwardly crouching, quiet for a moment, unsure of how to proceed without making things worse. “What do we do?” Jensen groaned.

With a sigh, Cougar finally said, “Call for help.”

“Dammit.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“They’re never going to let us live this down.”

“Si, I know.”

With a deep breath, they started calling for Pooch. When the transport specialist finally poked his head into the room grumbling, “What?” the word cut off at the “wuh—“ and ended with a strange gurgle. Jensen, with his face very nearly buried in Cougar’s crotch, went red in the face and spluttered. “It’s not what it looks like!”

Cougar chuckled, wincing with each heave of his lungs.

After Pooch had untangled them, Jensen and Cougar shared a look, and then Jensen stated very seriously, “We shall never speak of this again.”

“Agreed,” Pooch said, “I’m going to have nightmares for weeks.”

**3.** **The Motorcycle**

The team had three days of leave between missions. Only Pooch had decided to fly home for the short amount of time. The rest of them had stayed near the base, not wanting to spend hours traveling for only a day and some change at their destinations. Clay had disappeared within the first twenty-four hours, disclosing his location to Roque in case of an emergency, and then leaving an explicit list of what constituted an emergency.

Jensen was fairly certain that Clay had either picked up a woman, or hired a hooker for the weekend. Cougar was inclined to agree, though he wisely kept his mouth shut around Roque, who muttered periodically under his breath about crazy bitches, and how he better not have to jump in and save the day yet again. He was on _vacation_ , dammit!

On Saturday night, Jensen suggested that they take advantage of their break and go out for a decent meal. “I’m so ready to eat something not prepared in the mess hall!” So they made their plans for the evening. Cougar, needing to run some errands, left early, and said he’d meet up with them at the restaurant, a local bar and grill. A few hours later Roque and Jensen left together, Jensen buckled up in the passenger seat of Roque’s truck.

Everything was fine until dessert.

Jensen was working his way through a Bananas Foster, moaning obscenely around his spoon. Roque was working on getting drunk, though like usual the more he drank, the angrier he got. Really, Roque was one of those guys who just shouldn’t drink. Cougar was drinking a dessert-coffee, and every so often reaching over to steal some of Jensen’s food.

It wasn’t long into the course that Roque’s temper finally snapped, and he shouted at Jensen, “Shut the fuck up! You sound fucking stupid! If I gotta listen to one more noise outta you, I’mma break the goddamn mug—“ he waved his nearly empty pint glass in the air madly, “—and use the shards to carve out your vocal chords!”

“Whoa!” Jensen mumbled with his mouth full, drawing back, “Calm down, buddy. I’m just eatin’ some delicious bananas. You want some? Come on, Roque, how can you be angry with deliciousness in your mouth?”

“That’s it!” Roque yelled, and jumped up, reaching halfway over the table. Jensen flung his chair back, and Cougar got in between them, his hands on Roque’s chest.

“Tranquilo!” Cougar growled in Roque’s face. “This is not the time or the place.”

“I’m your fuckin’ superior officer!” Roque retorted, and shoved Cougar, who stumbled back into Jensen. The tech awkwardly caught Cougar up underneath his arms and helped him catch his balance.

Roque sneered as he saw the manager and their waitress heading for their table, and grabbed his keys off the scarred, wooden surface. “I’m out of here,” he barked, and headed for the door.

Ten minutes later after placating the staff members at the restaurant and paying the bill, including a generous tip, Cougar and Jensen finally made it out to the parking lot.

“Well, buddy,” Jensen began, slinging an arm over Cougar’s shoulders, “Looks like I’m catching a ride with you.”

Cougar glanced at his teammate sidelong. A smirk started tugging up the corner of his mouth. “Okay,” he agreed, “But you ride bitch.”

With that they stopped next to Cougar’s motorcycle, a black Harley Sportster, and Jensen groaned. “Dammit, Cougar, why couldn’t you have taken a car?”

The sniper shrugged. “Unforeseen events,” he commented nonchalantly, referring to the scene indoors. He slung one leg over the seat.

With a heartfelt sigh, Jensen got on behind him.

“Hold on tight.” Cougar snickered.

“Bastard,” Jensen growled.

“You could walk.”

“Fuck you.” He wrapped his arms around Cougar’s waist.

By the time they got back to base, Jensen counted seven catcalls and five homosexual slurs. It was nothing in comparison to the amount of shit they got riding through the gate.

**4.** **Project Runway**

Pooch only stayed in the living room long enough to catch this, then he fled for his life:

Jensen and Cougar sitting next to each other on the couch…

Jensen had his legs crossed Indian style with a large bowl of popcorn in his lap.

Cougar’s socked feet were up on the coffee table, and he was fishing popcorn out of the same aforementioned bowl.

On the television was Tim Gunn saying, “Make it work!” and Heidi Klum going, “Pwoject Wunway!”

“That dress is so wrong,” Jensen commented, shaking his head back and forth. “Heinous, even.”

Cougar nodded his agreement.

It was at that point that Pooch had decided he’d seen enough, and left to go…anywhere else.

They were still on the couch six hours later. It was an all-day marathon. In fact, they only left the couch when Roque pulled the plug out of the wall and the T.V. unceremoniously went dark.

“Aww!” Jensen cried, “We were just about to find out who won!”

“It’s Chloe,” Cougar told him.

“Nooooo!” Jensen moaned, “I wanted Daniel to win.”

Cougar shrugged.

“Wait, have you seen this season before?” Jensen asked. When Cougar didn’t reply he shouted, “You bastard! I wasted an entire day of existence on this! You could have just _told_ me!”

“It’s a good season,” Cougar replied.

Roque snorted in disgust and left.

**5.** **Tell Her How You Feel**

“I’m gonna do it,” Pooch announced, “I’m gonna ask her.”

“Good for you, man,” Roque congratulated him, sipping idly at his bourbon.

The bar was quiet, an old hole-in-the-wall that was one of the few places near the base that the Losers—more specifically Roque—hadn’t been kicked out of yet. A couple of old veterans sat at the bar, and the Losers had occupied two of the tables on the side. Pooch was rapidly slipping from the Liquid Courage zone into Vashniquored—Jensen’s word for the dangerous state of drunkenness that usually preceded a night in the drunk tank, or at the very least blacking out and waking up with injuries one didn’t remember occurring; he made it up when he was really, really drunk one night, and it had stuck.

Jensen, Cougar, and Pooch had been playing a little dice game where each person took turns rolling, pulling all the ones out of their rolls until they didn’t roll any ones. Play then passed onto the next player. When somebody reached the seventh ‘one,’ that person picked the shot. The person who rolled the fourteenth ‘one’ paid for the shot, and the person who rolled the twenty-first ‘one’ drank the shot.

Roque had offered to sit out for the game. He was working on his one and only drink for the night, and then driving his idiots back to base. For once he was having a pretty good time not getting drunk, chortling when Pooch made Jensen drink a shot called a used condom, and when Cougar lit his finger on fire for a shot of Goldschlagger. Suffice it to say that the boys were wasted.

Now Pooch was making marriage plans, and Jensen was cheering him on. “Yeah! Go, Pooch! You take that woman by the hair and make her yours!”

“Yeah!” Pooch agreed emphatically, “That’s…that’s my woman, dammit! I’mma haul her off over my shoulder—“

“And smack her ass!” Jensen interjected.

“And smack her ass!” Pooch parroted, “Then…then I’m gonna shove a ring on her finger because…fuck that guy! That what’s-his-face she works with. She thinks he’s innocently carpooling with her? There’s nothing innocent about it! I know how guys work. I’mma put a ring on her finger, and it’ll be like a…a…”

“A force field!” Jensen. Again.

“A force field! Yeah! Fuck yeah!”

“Dios mio,” Cougar groaned, shaking his head, then dropping his face into his palms, “Son idiotas.” _My god, you all are idiots._ “No, no…” Reaching out, Cougar placed a hand on Pooch’s arm across the table. At least he tried to, but he missed and ended up slapping the tabletop instead. “You cannot approach una mujer this way. Mala idea.”

Roque, whose idea of romance was not kicking a girl out right after sex, wisely opted to stay quiet.

“You…you must romance a woman, persuade her…” Cougar cooed, “Tell her how you feel.”

Pooch and Jensen both turned wondering eyes on Cougar as though the concept was foreign to them, and then looked back at each other. Jensen shrugged. “Don’t look at me, man. My idea of love is ‘I’ll pause the video game to listen to you talk.’”

Cougar sighed in disgust and flopped back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Like I said, idiotas. Jolene is…she is…una delicada flor. Maybe…maybe a poisonous one, but delicate…like an oleander. You must coax her to open to you, to this idea of matrimony. You do not just act like a caveman.” Warming to the topic, Cougar apparently decided that a demonstration was in order because his friends still looked rather mystified. Turning, he grasped Jensen’s hand. “Like this…”

“Mi amor,” Cougar began, staring deep into Jensen’s eyes, “Mi vida, I miss you so when you are not near me. Each hour seems to be a year or more that we are apart, each day is an eternity. I wonder where you are, what you are doing, if you think of me as often as I do of you. I am happiest when I am in your presence, most content when I am by your side. Without you, my world becomes that much colder as though the sun has been covered by clouds.”

Jensen, fascinated with the speech, leaned a little closer to Cougar, and covered the sniper’s hand with his other subconsciously.

Cougar squeezed his fingers. “Tell me,” he asked, “Do you feel the same?”

“Uh…hell fuckin’ yeah, I do,” Jensen responded, realizing that he’d been cast as the female lead in Cougar’s little melodrama.

“It would ease my heart to know that when I returned from my voyage that you would be there for me, waiting. Would you wait for me, mi amor?”

“Yes,” Jensen agreed emphatically, getting into the spirit of it, “Anything you asked, Cougs…erm…Pooch…uh, who the hell are you supposed to be?”

Cougar just rolled his eyes and kept on, murmuring quietly as he took Jensen’s chin in his hand, “Would you marry me? Be mine? Promise in front of God and our families that we’ll always be together?”

Seeming to fall mesmerized, like there was a spell in Cougar’s eyes, Jensen cleared his throat and whispered, “Yes. Yes, I’d love to be your…wife?” He cocked an eyebrow quizzically.

“Gracias, mi amor,” Cougar stated gratefully, “I shall worship at the altar of your love all the days of my life.” He moved in closer and closer. At the last second just as his lips were about to touch Jensen’s—and Roque noted for future reference how Jensen didn’t look as upset about that as he should have—Cougar turned his head and looked at Pooch, who was gaping at them both.

“I…I don’t think I can say that to Jolene. She’ll ask me where I stole the speech from. I gotta…can you dumb it down?”

Nobody noticed Jensen pull away from Cougar with a sigh of relief as the sniper and their SIC broke out guffawing.

**1.** **It’s A Little Late For Revelations**

It was after the chopper crash, and almost two years since the incident at the bar where Jensen and Cougar almost pretend-kissed. The Losers were stranded in Bolivia, light years away from anyone or anything they called home, and Jensen and Cougar were biding their time working at a doll factory, bringing in a meager three dollars a day to keep themselves afloat. It was mindless work, and they spent their days pleasantly numb. The nights they numbed themselves with liquor and other substances, keeping the nightmares at bay with an unending party.

They weren’t the only ones coping that way. Clay and Roque spent their days at the cock fights and their nights in the bars.

Of the five of them, Pooch was probably coping the best. Then again, he was, generally speaking, the most mentally stable one among them. Cougar was infamous for his nightmares even before Bolivia, and Jensen slipped in and out of manic phases like he was changing shirts. Roque had anger problems, and Clay had more issues than fingers to count them on.

Late after work, well into their second bottle of tequila, was when Jensen started talking.

Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. Cougar started, but like usual, Jensen picked up where Cougar left off and just ran with it. With a heavy tongue, Cougar murmured, “Elena wants to fuck you…and me.”

“Elena’s a whore,” Jensen laughed, and threw a tennis ball at the wall. It hit with a meaty thud and rebounded, and Jensen caught it, sending it right back with a flick of his wrist. He ignored the angry yell and pounding on the wall that came from next door.

“Si,” Cougar agreed, “But a pretty one. Are you not tempted? Not even a little.”

“Easy pickings,” Jensen said, “Besides, soooooo not my type. I like to be confident that my bed-partners don’t have a venereal disease.”

“That is your only requirement?” Cougar clucked his tongue, and tipped the tequila bottle back. “I fit those requirements.”

“Are you sure?” Jensen chuckled, “You’ve been hitting the sheets a lot lately. When was the last time you got tested?”

Shrugging, Cougar murmured, “Before.” They were silent for another moment. Cougar drank more tequila, and Jensen stopped throwing his ball long enough to reach for the bottle that the sniper was holding. As Jensen took a drink, Cougar’s mood seemed to change. He smirked, and said to his friend, “Easy pickings.” When Jensen choked, Cougar started laughing so hard that he clutched his belly, falling onto his back on the full size bed he slept in.

When Jensen recovered he slurred, “Yeah, but Cougs…don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“Of what?” The sniper replied.

“Fucking girls you don’t care about. See, my thing is I can’t be with somebody if there’s nothing there. I mean, I can, I’m physically capable of it, but it’s not… It’s just _not_.”

Rolling onto his stomach, Cougar pillowed his head on his arms and looked at Jensen. Finally, he said, “A veces, but mostly I do not even notice it. I…pick women who have no interest in making a connection, in forming a relationship, because then…then I do not have to deal with it. This…situation is too dangerous, too tenuous to allow any outsiders close to my heart. They could get hurt, or betray me, or worse.”

“What’s worse?” Jensen wondered, turning so that he sat on the opposite side of his bed, feet flat on the floor, hands on his bare knees. His loose khaki shorts were hiked up from spinning around.

“No se.” _I don’t know_. Cougar’s answering smile was lop-sided.

Jensen mirrored the expression. However, it didn’t last very long because Cougar asked him, “So do you intend to be celibate until…until we are able to go home?” Neither of them made the correction to ‘if;’ if they were able to go home. The idea was simply too depressing to say out loud.

“No,” Jensen said, “I don’t know. Maybe. I guess it depends.”

“On?”

“Stuff,” the hacker replied with a shrug.

A thought occurred to Cougar, and his jaw dropped. Looking surreptitiously over his shoulder as though to make sure that no one was listening in, he whispered hoarsely, “Are you going to turn gay?”

Jensen’s jaw fell open and worked soundlessly.

Obliviously, Cougar kept talking. “I do not know if I could see you with one of the others. Clay is very…straight, and Roque is…Roque. Pooch is loyal—“ The Hispanic man paused to chuckle, “—to his wife.” With an ambiguous hand gesture in front of himself, the sniper asked, “Me? Could…would you…with me?”

“Cougs, holy crap!” Jensen shouted, finally finding his voice. He waved his hands frantically, “I don’t…I’m not _gay_. I just… Dude, you’re good-looking. You know you are, so it’s not that you’re not like…attractive, I guess, but I’m not… I’ve never been into dudes. Never even thought of it. I just don’t want to be with any chicks right now.”

“Oh.” Cougar sat up, frowning in a trademark pout that only appeared when he was well and truly wasted. “You think I am attractive?”

Jensen took another heavy pull from the bottle of tequila. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I…I guess so. Not in like a ‘let’s get married and have babies’ kind of way, though.”

“How do you know?”

“What?”

“How do you know it’s not that way? You said yourself you have never experimented.”

“Cougs,” Jensen laughed and drank some more, “I think I’m a little old to be questioning my sexuality.”

The sniper shrugged, but the expression on his face remained quizzical. There was a challenge in the curve of his smirky lips, and Jensen sighed when he realized that Cougar wasn’t ready to drop the subject yet.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Jensen asked sarcastically, “Because, truthfully, I’m finding that a _little_ hard to believe. You are the straightest straight guy that ever did straight-walk out of Straight Town.”

Smiling, Cougar shot back, “I think that title goes to Clay.”

Jensen conceded to that with a smile and a slight nod.

There was another pregnant pause, and then Jensen huffed out a breath. “Fine,” he said, “Come here. I will prove to you that I’m totally not into guys.” Drunk Jensen thought that was great logic. Of course, he was pretty Vashniquored, so he shouldn’t have been allowed to make his own decisions.

Obligingly, Cougar leaned forward, balancing on his folded legs, torso stretching across the space between their beds.

Jensen reached out automatically, gripping Cougar’s biceps to keep him steady. As his friend’s face loomed closer and closer, Jensen felt a strange something curling in his stomach. Maybe that burrito from the street vendor hadn’t been such a great idea. Just get it over with, he told himself, and darted in close, brushing his lips over Cougar’s. “See?” he said as he pulled away, “Nothing. Nada.”

Cougar cocked his eyebrow at Jensen, and again the hacker felt that he was being challenged. “Fuck you,” Jensen growled, and slanted his lips across his friend’s again. They were thin, but softer than he’d expected. Those lips parted slightly underneath his, and he felt Cougar’s breath against him. A subtle movement of Cougar’s lips against him startled Jensen. He jumped a little, and that weird churning in his gut tightened like somebody had wrapped a fist around it and squeezed. Responding to the stimulus, Jensen kissed the sniper back.

Cougar pulled away, separating from the kiss with a barely audible smacking sound.

Jensen stared at his friend, wide-eyed, his breath coming in fast pants in and out of his nose. “Shit!” he cursed when he could think to say anything, “Shit! Fuck! Goddammit! I’m too old for revelations!”

Cougar grinned triumphantly and snatched the discarded tequila bottle off the floor. He took a long drink as Jensen ranted, “This is all your fault, Cougar. It’s all on you! If I come back with some guy that I call ‘papi’ some night, I want you to know that it’s all your fault.” Jensen flopped backwards onto his mattress, bemoaning his life.

Cougar let him have his moment, taking calm sips from the tequila bottle. Then when he’d decided that Jensen had whined enough he very casually straddled Jensen’s waist, and offered him the bottle of booze. “Relax, amigo,” he placated his friend, “This is not such a big deal, and if you show up with a big, burly man you call ‘papi,’ I assure you that he will have to run the gauntlet before we let him keep you.” He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner as Jensen sat up a little ways and grabbed the proffered drink.

“Cougs,” Jensen paused wondering how to phrase this tactfully, “You realize that you’re sitting on my lap. I’ve just realized that I’m bi, and you are making my lap your new happy home…maybe too happy.” He glared at his crotch as though to tell it to cut it the fuck out.

“Si,” the sniper agreed, and wiggled his hips a little until a certain eager body part of Jensen’s was pressed up against his butt. “I needed to be close to do this.”

“What?” Jensen squeaked.

“This,” Cougar murmured, cradling Jensen’s neck in one hand and gliding his moistened lips over Jensen’s once again. “I’ve wondered for a long time if you were attracted to me,” the sniper whispered against his mouth, “It is good to finally have an answer.”

Groaning, Jensen abandoned the tequila bottle to the bed covers, and fell back onto the mattress, pulling Cougar down with him. “I was doomed from the start,” the hacker stated dryly as instant before he kissed Cougar again. “You know we’re never going to live this down, don’t you? Pooch and Roque find out, we’ll never hear the end of it.”

Chuckling, Cougar rotated his hips against Jensen’s, and licked his lower lip. “They will never say a word to you. Prometo.” _I promise_.

With a slight laugh, Jensen fired back, “Okay, papi.”

**-FIN-**


End file.
